


Partners in Crime

by mosylu



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: AU, F/M, Supervillains, they are full of snark and sass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 14:58:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15027137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mosylu/pseuds/mosylu
Summary: They'll save each others' skins, patch each other up, and engage in crime together. The one thing they won't do is be open about their feelings. Which is fine. Who needs feelings when you have diamonds?





	Partners in Crime

**Author's Note:**

> For Killervibe Fanfiction Week on Tumblr: Supervillains theme

The breach opened into the middle of his dinky studio apartment, and they staggered through it together, panting and sweating and (in Cisco’s case anyway), groaning with pain. As the breach sucked itself closed with a phhhhwwwwwipp, she hauled him across the room.

“Oof,” she grunted, heaving his arm off her shoulder and dropping him onto the bed before she collapsed onto the foot. “You weigh a ton, you know that?”

“Body-shaming me after I sustained grievous injury while saving your skin,” he panted. “Nice.”

“Bite me.”

He had no good answer for that (aside from “anywhere you want”) so he rested back against the wall behind his bed with a groan. “Fucking superheroes,” he muttered. “Did you get what you went in for, before our unwanted guests turned up?”

“I should tell you no,” she said, eyes closed. “Keep it all for myself.”

“But you won’t,” he said, relaxing. “Anyway, if you wanted to double-cross me, you’d’ve run off and left me groaning on the pavement instead of freezing Dudley Do-Right to the nearest pole and scraping me up.”

She opened her eyes. They were brown again, in the fascinating way that she had of slipping back undercover. He was one of the very few who knew the icy, dangerous real woman under the everyday mask.

She curled her lip at him. “If you died or got arrested, I’d need to find another partner. That’s so inconvenient.”

“Careful, Killer Frost,” he said, shifting into a more comfortable position with a grimace of pain. “Don’t get so mushy. I might start to think you care.”

She snorted and got up. “Let me see that foot.” She untied his left shoe and eased it off, tossing it to the floor.

He yelped. “Careful with those! They’re limited edition. Do you know what I had to go through to steal them?”

“No, and I don’t care.” She peeled off his sock.

“Ouch!” he groaned as she poked and prodded at his ankle.

“It’s a sprain,” she pronounced. She produced a well-used first-aid kit from the bathroom and wrapped his ankle. “Keep it elevated and iced.”

He dropped back against his pillow, feeling sweat bead on his forehead. Not all his yelping had been for show. “You know, I always forget you’re a doctor.”

She gave him a dirty look as she packed the first-aid kit up again. “Used to be. They took away my license when I went to prison, remember? And you don’t forget. You come whining to me whenever you get so much as a paper cut.”

“Yeah, but your bedside manner sucks.”

She examined her nails. “Just for that, you can get your own ice pack.”

“Oh, come on.”

She shrugged.

With a grunt, he eased himself off the bed and hopped one-footed over to the fridge. Lucky thing his apartment was so small it was only a few steps. Also lucky he always had ice packs ready when he went out on a heist. For people who called themselves the good guys, Central City’s superheroes were all too happy to beat up on a dude who was just trying to make an honest living.

Well.

Not _honest,_ exactly.

But a living.

Ice pack wrapped in a towel, he hopped back to the bed, where Caitlin was stretched out with her dirty boots on his pillow, smirking as she watched him struggle. He narrowed his eyes at her. “Move.”

“Say please.”

He shoved her legs off the far side of the bed and dropped onto the mattress with a grunt, propping his foot on her thigh and settling the ice pack on top. She huffed, but left his foot where it was.

He flipped his pillow over to the clean side and leaned back against it. “So let me see the ice.”

She held out her hand. Mist whirled around her open palm and coalesced into a large, irregular chunk of ice.

He rolled his eyes. That joke just never got old for her. “You know what I mean.”

She chucked the ice ball across the room at his sink. It missed and crashed into his counter. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, but forgot his annoyance when she reached into her leather jacket and produced a velvet wrapped bundle. Laying it flat on his bedspread, she revealed a treasure trove of glittering diamonds.

“Look how pretty,” he murmured, leaning forward to run his fingers over them.

“Gorgeous,” she said.

He pulled a jeweler’s loupe out of his pocket and picked up up the largest stone, checking the quality. “I’m thinking at least seventy thousand here,” he said when he’d gone over all of them. “Maybe eighty.”

She nodded her agreement. “Maybe more if I terrorize Albert properly.”

He sat back. “Make sure you do, then. When are you meeting him?”

She waved her burner phone. “Already texted.” It buzzed, and her lips curved. “And there he is.” She looked up. “First thing in the morning at the Pancake Hut.”

“I love pancakes,” he said.

“No,” she said. “You scare him off.”

“Me? I’m a puppy dog.”

“One who growls at him when he leers at my tits.” She swept the diamonds back into their bag and tied it up, stashing it in her jacket again. “Which are none of your business, by the way.”

“Did I say they were? It’s just annoying when that rat-faced Brit keeps getting distracted by your cleavage. Drags our business out.”

“If it gets us more than eighty thousand for these pretties, what do you care?”

“I don’t,” he said, and she cut him an unreadable look. He looked away and shifted his leg, trying to get more comfortable.

The ice pack teetered and slid off his ankle, onto her knee. She made an annoyed noise and slid out from under him. “Here.” She grabbed a cushion off his couch and stuffed it under his ankle, repositioning the ice pack.

“Awww, baby, you’re so good to me.”

She flipped him off and threw a bottle of ibuprofen from the first-aid kit in his lap. “Take one.”

“Dry?” he said plaintively.

“Yes.”

He sighed heavily and made a production out of opening the bottle, shaking one out into his palm, and swallowing it, adding a few gagging noises for effect.

She rolled her eyes. “You’re such a child.”

He closed the pill bottle again. “If I wasn’t, who would you sneer at?”

“I’d find somebody.”

“I’m sure.”

The doorbell rang and she jerked up straight, an ice dagger materializing in her hand.

“Relax,” he said, tossing the ibuprofen back in the first-aid kit and latching the lid. “It’s just the food.”

“When did you order food?”

“When do you think? While I was sitting around waiting for you.” He rolled his eyes. “Before the do-gooders showed up.”

She gave a snort and tossed the ice dagger after the ice ball. That one missed the sink too. “So while I was doing all the hard work, you were ordering out?”

He shrugged. “Man’s gotta eat.” The bell rang again. “Would you get that?”

She sauntered to the door, checking the peephole before pulling it open. “What,” she said.

“Uh, I - uh.” The delivery boy goggled at her.

Cisco could appreciate the feeling. Even with her hair back to brown, Caitlin was a hell of a sight in her tight black tank top, stiletto-heeled boots, and black leather pants.

Delivery Boy gulped a few times and finally managed to squeak out, “I’ve got one order of General Tso’s, one order of sweet and sour chicken, crab puffs and … and one egg drop soup?”

Recognizing her own favorite dishes in there, Caitlin looked over her shoulder at Cisco. He shrugged.

“Th-that’ll be thirty-four twenty-six, please,” the delivery boy said meekly.

Cisco waved a hand. “Well? Pay the man. My belly needs filling.”

“Oh, I will,” she purred, and pulled a brown leather wallet out of her back pocket. Not her wallet - his. He swore as he realized she must have nabbed it off the counter when she was getting the first-aid kit.

(They didn’t go on heists with their _drivers’ licenses_ on them. They weren’t _dumb_.)

She extracted bills. “Keep the change.”

The delivery boy did the quick calculation of all service workers and his eyes widened. “Thank you,” he breathed, bolting before she changed her mind.

She shut the door with a snap and walked over to dump the food on the bed.

“Gimme my wallet,” he grumbled, and she handed it back with very little fight. Probably because she’d given the delivery boy all his money.

Whatever. Come tomorrow, he’d have plenty more moola to make up for it.

He opened the paper bag of crab puffs and stuffed one in his mouth. Mmmm. So fresh it almost burned his tongue. "Here,” he said, holding it out.

She took one. “I didn’t need you to order for me.”

“You’re assuming a lot,” he said, snapping a set of chopsticks apart. “Crime is hungry-making.”

She opened the box of sweet and sour chicken. “Are you really going to eat all of this, plus that?” She nodded the box already in his lap.

He threw up his hands. “Oh my god! You got me. I ordered you some food. I’m a monster.”

She eyed him long enough that he scowled back at her.

“I’ll take mine to go,” she said, stashing the sweet and sour chicken and the egg drop soup back in the bag and looping it over her wrist.

He masked his disappointment with another shrug. “Fine by me. Text me tomorrow when you get a price.”

She leaned over, running one cool finger down his face. “Careful there, Reverb,” she breathed. “Don’t get mushy on me. I might start to think you care.”

FINIS


End file.
